The Spirit of '76
by Sophia Hawkins
Summary: Oneshot. The A-Team, still rough around the edges and finding their rhythm of how to best operate as soldiers of fortune, take a job during the Bicentennial.


The Spirit of 76

July 4th, 1976

Hannibal Smith was becoming known to his men as famous for his front door approaches to the jobs they took. It made sense to him, why sneak around trying to bust a bunch of crooks when you could just walk right up to them, catch them off guard, and confuse the hell out of them?

The others hadn't been too keen on this idea, so they'd decided to hang back and come in at the first sign that Hannibal was losing control of the situation. Sometimes during these plans he at least dressed up as one of the parts he was playing to especially throw the criminals off. An old prospector, a homeless wino, a little old lady, they were all so much fun to confuse the hell out of people, but this time Hannibal decided to come as himself, sort of. This time he donned no disguises, but he suspected his identification would still leave the guys they'd been hired to deal with scratching their heads in total confusion.

It was a warm summer day, though not particularly hot, in fact the whole town had been surprised at the serious lapse in the weather forecast which had called for sweltering temperatures and high humidity, in fact the weather was almost pleasant. Certainly better than the summers they'd all spent back in 'Nam.

With a toothy grin on his face that would ordinarily rattle Face that no good was going to come from whatever was floating around in his head, Hannibal Smith walked up to the three unkempt knuckle draggers that the A-Team had presently been hired to do something about. Three men in their 40s dressed in work jeans and plaid work shirts, who were talking and laughing to themselves as they loaded a bunch of crates in the back of a truck. They never even saw him coming until he was right on top of them.

"Hi there!" he announced, causing the three men to jerk with a start. "If I were you, I'd put that stuff back where you found it, immediately."

"Oh yeah?" the man in the middle asked. He was the medium built one of the bunch with tanned skin and dark blonde hair that almost ran the length of his neck. "And where would that be?"

"Back with the people that you stole it from," Hannibal answered simply, "or how exactly did you call it? Compensation taxes for their failure to pay your protection fees."

The three men started to look to one another. They were used to pushing people around and getting away with it, obviously so far they hadn't had to deal with anyone who might even consider pushing back.

"And what's it to you?" the biggest brute of the bunch asked the colonel.

"Well for one thing," Hannibal said simply as he took the cigar out of his mouth, "it's not nice. Second of all, it's a direct violation of those people's rights as free Americans."

"And who the hell are you?" the third man asked.

With a sardonic grin that suggested trouble was soon to follow, Hannibal answered without missing a beat, "I _am_ the spirit of 1776, the living embodiment of all held sacred by the Founding Fathers 200 years ago, and it's my job to see that the law and order they drafted for this country to run under is upheld. Maybe you remember that lesson from school, 'We the people hold these truths to be self evident that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable rights, that among these are Life, Liberty, and the Pursuit of happiness'. Well, you've threatened to kill the people you stole from if they didn't comply with your orders, and attempted to make good on those threats to others, that certainly violates their recognized right to life, you muscle your way in to stomp all over what they spent a lifetime building and give them an ultimatum to give you what you want that's rightfully theirs or else, that's certainly a violation on their right to liberty. You terrorize them, their families, their children, to line your own pockets, and that, friends, is a definite violation of the right for them to pursue happiness. It all comes full circle, those who were tyrants in 1776 are alive and well as tyrants today, and it goes without saying that this little scheme of yours is just a new and not so improved version of taxation without representation. Yes, the Founding Fathers would certainly have had a field day with you, but instead I'll have to tend to matters myself. And what a perfect day for it to happen on, the day that all the little people that you have intimidated, robbed and assaulted reclaim their independence from _you_."

At the last word Hannibal felt a fist punch him in the gut and he doubled over with a groan, but his assailants didn't have long to enjoy their small victory. Confusion was piled on top of confusion when they all heard a whooping howl from somewhere in the distance, and a few seconds later Murdock jumped out of the bushes dressed in replica American Revolution era clothes trying to play a toy piccolo. Whatever he was trying to play started off sounding like 'Yankee Doodle' but somewhere along the way switched to 'Dixie', unbeknownst to the captain. This spectacle drew enough diversion for Hannibal to get back to his feet and deliver a roundhouse kick to the man closest him and knock him down. The other two pulled out guns.

Bullets were flying from both directions, Hannibal turned and saw B.A. and Face firing from their half concealed positions. Murdock had dropped his piccolo and pulled out an automatic pistol from inside his jacket and returned fire at the three men. Hannibal took the opportunity to get out of the middle of the firefight, and instead doubled back to Face, who was sprawled over the rooftop of an old garage across the street. Face had his sights lined up and had his rifle aimed right for the biggest man, his eyes were cold and determined, his finger just a hair off the trigger.

"Face," Hannibal chided as he made his way beside his lieutenant, "we agreed on this, no killing."

But Face didn't seem to be listening. His eyes never moved, never blinked, his finger never moved away from the trigger.

"Just one, Hannibal, just _one_," Templeton said, "I can make the shot, you know I can."

"I know you can," Hannibal replied, "but how well do you think you're going to sleep tonight if you kill a man?"

"Like a baby," Face answered self assuredly. "It's what the army trained us to do."

"The army trained us to kill enemy soldiers in war," Hannibal corrected him.

"You saw what they did to those families...this _isn't_ war?" Face asked. "I can make the shot, Hannibal, one bullet..."

"And one man dead, and two more alive, and us who are already wanted fugitives will have a murder tacked on us in addition to robbing the Bank of Hanoi of 100 million dollars. I understand your frustration, Face, but just because we've wanted for a crime we didn't commit, doesn't mean we should spend the rest of our lives hunted for one we _did_ commit."

"We'd be free when we came home," Face only seemed to be half there, the other half of him was four years and thousands of miles away, "You said it yourself, you said we could come home when the war was over, that we'd be _free_."

"I did say that," Hannibal said simply, "I was wrong. I'm sorry. I had no way of knowing any of this was going to happen, but you're not going to change it by killing somebody now who has nothing to do with what happened to us in Hanoi."

It was true their clients had been brutalized, the likes of which the A-Team had scarcely seen since escaping Vietnam, but Hannibal still couldn't justify killing any of the men responsible when they could simply get them all sent to prison for the rest of their unnatural lives. Hannibal saw it as he had one final play, and he took it.

"The army taught us very well, that is indisputable, but the army also turned their backs on us," Hannibal reminded Face. "They were wrong. We'll never forget what we learned there, and the day may actually come that we have to do it again...but that time isn't _now_, Face. We have to find a different way to deal with our homegrown enemies. And tell you the truth, I don't think for one minute that you would sleep well tonight knowing that you took a man's life, even if he did deserve it. There are other ways to handle this, Face, we need to stick with them."

It was obvious from the look on Templeton's face that he was struggling with all of this conflicting in him, but still his finger never left the trigger, and he never looked away from his target. Letting out an exasperated sound, he altered the aim of his rifle ever so slightly and opened fire, hitting everything around the man but never actually hitting him.

"That's more like it," Hannibal said. "Just because we were all trained to hit any target, doesn't mean we _have_ to aim for the living ones."

Face pushed whatever was in his head to the side and resumed the tactical business side of the Team's job and pointed out, "We'll never get our fee from those people, and what it's going to cost to replace all the ammo, it would've been easier if you'd let me kill him."

"My job as the colonel of this Team is sometimes I have to do what's right by my men instead of what's easiest for the plan," Hannibal told him. It had been obvious back in 'Nam that Hannibal was the closest thing to a father figure Face had in his life aside from the priests at the orphanage where he grew up, even so, this was as close to a father/son talk as they would probably ever have.

Face finally looked away from the sight below, he set his rifle on the rooftop and turned away, squeezing his eyes shut as if they were burning, and rubbed them with the flat of his hand, then the neck of his T-shirt. Hannibal inched over towards the edge and called out, "Murdock, B.A.! Everything good?"

"We' fine down here, Hannibal," B.A. called back, "these suckers' ready for the lockup."

"We'll be right down!" Hannibal called down to his men, then turned back to Face and said to him, "It's over, Face, let's go."

* * *

"I can assure you that none of you will have to worry about Brian Hadley and his men ever again," Hannibal told the people that had hired them, as they stood around the backyard of one of the families as a barbecue dinner was prepared on the grill. "The police have enough evidence to put them all away for at least 50 years. By that time they'll all be too old to even remember who they are."

One of the women, a little housewife by the name of Christina Starling, put the lid over the meat and responded to the colonel, "We are eternally grateful to you and what you've done for us, Mr. Smith, I just feel bad that we won't be able to pay you."

Hannibal shrugged, "Don't worry about it, we have discount rates for federal holidays."

"Well, I know it's not much, but you're welcome to join us for dinner," she said.

"We'd be thrilled..." Hannibal looked around and realized they were short one. "Where's Face?"

B.A. and Murdock wordlessly pointed the way. The fact that they were back there with Hannibal instead of with the lieutenant told Hannibal plenty.

"I'll be right back."

The property next door was a vacant lot that over the years had accumulated a lot of discarded garbage that the dumps wouldn't take, old cars, tires, misshapen metal, etc., and in the middle of it all, there stood Face leaning against a pile of metal milk crates being used as a fence line with his arms folded across the top and his chin rested on his arms, and just stared out into the wide open space, but seemingly looking at nothing.

"We've been invited to stay for dinner," Hannibal said as he walked over to his lieutenant.

"I'm not hungry," Face replied as he continued to gaze out at something. Hannibal stood beside him and looked as well, and he could see what it was. Across the way there was the faint sound of children laughing and screaming and Hannibal could see some of them running around playing with sparklers and Roman candles.

Hannibal could guess what was bothering Face. It was true he had a reputation as a womanizer to whom the word 'commitment' might as well be a four letter word, but Hannibal suspected there was more under the surface. Wanted fugitives couldn't get married, they couldn't settle down and they couldn't have kids and raise families, even if he wanted to, and Hannibal suspected somewhere under it all, Face _did_ want to, and the fact it was not an option to him was what made it all so intolerable for him.

Hannibal pressed his arms against the top of the milk crates and looked out as he told Face, "We got a raw deal, it shouldn't have happened but it did. But things could be worse."

"They could be better," Face replied. "Even you have to see how ridiculous it is. Independence Day, the country is 200 years old, and everybody can celebrate their freedom _but_ us."

"What's free?" Hannibal asked in response. "I know the signers had a whole laundry list of what they thought counted, but for all the stuff they could foresee happening after they were gone, even they'd be shaking their heads at a lot of the stuff that's happened over the years. Like I said, Face, it could be worse, we could never have gotten out of that stockade, or for that matter, from that VC prison camp. A lot of men died so we and millions of other people they never knew could be free, we do what we do so that _other_ people can be free...and in the process we might just wind up freeing ourselves one day. In the meantime we can take comfort in the fact we're back in our own country, whether it wants us here or not, and we're not exactly alone."

Face reluctantly nodded, "True."

"If you actually think about it, Templeton, we're freer than most. We can come and go and travel the world at a moment's notice as we please, the standard rules don't apply to us, we can do whatever it is we have to do to get something done. I know it's not ideal but it's something to work with, and there's plenty to be said about that too."

Face looked down and just nodded again. "I know."

"Now the way I see it, you have two options," Hannibal told him, "either you can come back and sit down with the others and eat your dinner and act like a human being, or we can let Murdock round up all the hamburgers and perform his version of 'Dinner Theatre'." That had the young lieutenant busting out laughing, because he knew Hannibal was serious. "The choice is yours."

A couple minutes later, Hannibal headed back to the barbecue with Face in tow and announced to the others, "Look what I found."

B.A. waited until Face and Murdock had gone on ahead to dish up before he asked the colonel, "What'd you do, Hannibal?"

"Nothing, I just pointed out that even four escaped fugitives on the run from the US Army can still find something to celebrate today," Hannibal answered. "Come on, let's eat."

The sergeant grunted and remarked, "Don't gotta tell me twice."

Everybody got a plate and dished up and took a seat at one of the picnic tables set up for the barbecue.

"I'd like to say something, guys," Hannibal told the others who were just about to dig in. When he saw he had their attention he explained, "I know this isn't how any of us planned to spend the Bicentennial, if we had things our own way we probably wouldn't even see each other, we'd all probably just go wherever the wind blew us to start our own lives and our own families. Now I firmly believe it's in the cards for us, when it'll be, I don't know, I don't even want to guess, but until it does happen, as long as it's just the four of us...I can't think of any three people I'd rather spend the 4th of July with."

There was a moment of somber silence at the table as his men looked at him, and around at each other. Finally it was Murdock who broke the silence by responding, "The feeling's mutual, Colonel, I'd take you three over the guys at the VA any day."

"Not that that's saying much," B.A. grumbled under his breath.

Hannibal ignored B.A.'s comment and added, "We'll stick around for dinner, we'll stay later for the fireworks...tomorrow we'll head back to L.A. Until then, we're just going to enjoy being four Americans celebrating the 200th birthday of our country, in the company of 3 dozen fellow Americans who in a sense _we_ helped liberate."

Face nodded and said, "There's something to be said for that."

"Happy 4th of July, everybody," Hannibal told his men.


End file.
